Peace, Hard Won: Project Predacon
by Tomoe Mami
Summary: Megatron relinquishes his ideals of war on the Autobots and forms a peace alliance with Optimus. Decepticons he chose join him, but not all 'cons are impressed with their now soft ex-leader. Starscream rises to Lordship, becoming the founder of a reborn armada. With relationships blooming, how will the boosted Autobot forces handle the renewed threat? Co-write. Indefinite hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

_"Was it really a matter of chance? It is commonly said that chance is blind; we say that chance peers out at us with a thousand eyes...[but] if he felt the thousand eyes fixed upon him, he could not understand their meaning." (Amos, "Where the Jackals Howl")_

# # #

The shrieks of Cylas rippled in Megatron's audio receptors and the great mech turned away from the sound, not in pity, but in disgust. There would be no pity for the mangled life form that sullied what was left of Breakdown's Cybertronian frame. With a soft rasp, Knock Out rose from his crouch and moved to follow the Vehicon troopers as they proceeded to drag Cylas toward his inescapable fate.

"Doctor… a moment." Megatron's voice beckoned to Knock Out and, accordingly, he answered. The swell of the promise of the work ahead of him lightened the red mech's pedfalls, turning his approach to the Decepticon warlord into a saunter accentuated by the occasional twirl of his beloved prod.

"Yes, my master?" Honey enthusiasm dripped from Knock Out's response. He was eager, so eager, to avenge Breakdown's dissection upon the hapless and misguided human. Megatron allowed himself to drink such enthusiasm in, taking it in to the dregs, recognizing such a sentiment might become a rarity among the Decepticon ranks within the next few cycles. The once gladiator's frame heaved an exvent of air before addressing his medical officer.

"Cylas is yours to do with as you see fit, Doctor." Megatron's intonation resurrected Knock Out's venomous grin.

"My everlasting gratitude to you, my master." He purred back.

"Knock Out..." The Decepticon lord's intonation became thick, black with heavy emotions. The startling difference froze the grin right off Knock Out's face. "… When you have finished your experiments, I order you to dispose of what is left of Cylas. I want no trace left of that abomination."

"Oh… o-of course, Megatron. Not a trace left." His stride decidedly more sober, Knock Out began to retreat towards the safe haven of his medical bay.

But even as Knock Out departed, Megatron's voice haunted him. "Oh and, Knock Out? Do not linger overlong in your task. It would be unwise to try my patience in this matter."

When the doors sighed shut behind the red mech, Megatron was more than grateful for the quiet that descended upon the bridge. Alone now, except for his most faithful of followers. In a rare show of affection, Megatron approached the Decepticon spymaster, lifting one massive hand to rest, but for a fleeting moment, upon the other's shoulder plate. "Soundwave…" The Deception Warlord's timber was low and mournful. "My one true ally… most devoted follower… I wonder if you will continue to follow me in the days to come…?"

Resigned, Megatron stepped away toward the view screen, idly flicking it on to gaze upon the Earth suspended within the ocean of starlight beneath the __Nemesis__. Somewhere below them on such an unremarkable world, a planet who didn't hold a breath of beauty compared to the silver splendour of Cybertron, there were the Autobots. More than that, somewhere on that insignificant blue globe was Optimus Prime… his long lost brethren… age old nemesis…

Megatron couldn't help but grate his sharpened denta together, grinding the servos in his jaws together at the thought of the steady victories the Autobots had been attaining. One after another his warriors, his Decepticons, had been failing, had been pushed over the precipice of failure and down the slope of defeat. Of course, few of his Deceptions would see it that way; after all, to be a Decepticon was to be proud, stubborn and unyielding. But Megatron could see it… could see the end they were slowly spiralling down into.

The once champion of the gladiatorial pits of Kaon fisted his hands, bringing them down upon one of the many consoles that illuminated the bridge. He felt it fiercely then, the press of time, hemming him in, whispering doubt and darkness into his processors. Pride had led him to this path of destruction those many eons ago, stubbornness had kept him there, but now not even his gladiatorial instincts could force him to hold this course. Because beneath those urges to fight, to oppose, lurked an even fiercer desire to survive. If the long war-torn eons had taught Megatron anything, it was to survive.

That… __that __was why he would do this: to survive. Because if he didn't do something—__this __drastic something—he would condemn not just himself, but all Decepticon kind to damnation and deactivation at the hands of the Autobots. Long had the signs been written for him to see, the words carved into the shrapnel from countless fallen mechs, running in rivulets of energon spilled: this war would end, but it would be the Autobots who would end it.

Why? Because of Prime. It always came back to Prime. He was why the Autobots would never give up in the face of overwhelming odds, he was why there would always be another mech to answer the call to battle, and he was why all of them were ready to give their very sparks for the Autobot cause. Would it were Megatron could say as much for all of those under his command.

It was that devotion that doomed his followers to failure, why they had been loosing relic after relic to the Autobots. His Decepticons were fierce fighters, true, and they were numerous, but each had a breaking point, each their own agenda, each their limit of loyalty. Prime's followers had no such restrictions hemming in their efforts and endeavours.

__Optimus Prime… Orion Pax… my once-brethren… ah, what I have done to make you hate me so… and what you have done to incur such self-same hate in me…__ The memory rose and nipped at him. __Orion Pax…__ it taunted him with the name, the ghost rising to mock him with all that he had lost… or maybe not; no, perhaps not lost… merely forgotten.

The old searing ache filled Megatron's spark at the thought of the Prime, of the connection he had once shared, that bond of brotherhood he had lost, and just as it began to threaten to overwhelm him, he acted. "Soundwave… put the ship on lock-down, no one is to leave for any reason. Recall our mining troops to the __Nemesis__."

Closing his optics, Megatron then sent his voice, amplified through his ship, across every Decepticon communication channel. "Effective immediately, I am issuing lock-down protocols. No one may leave the ship for any reason. Furthermore, from this moment on, I am issuing a cease-fire. Any Decepticon who violates the cease-fire and who engages an Autobot in battle, will answer to me."

As words withered into silence, Soundwave's determined presence pulled at Megatron. The great silver mech spoke to the other without turning. "This… this is where it ends. On my terms, Soundwave; not theirs, not __his__. This is the way, the only way, our race survives; for the good of our kind." …__Because if I do not stray from this path, we will battle ourselves into extinction, and we will rip ourselves into nothingness the same way these inept humans do__.

Monolithic Soundwave regarded him as he navigated the ship into a lower atmospheric orbit.

"Keep them in order, until I return." How old Megatron felt then, how beaten, how eon-burdened he was traversing those dark corridors through the ship. Taking the shortest path to the upper deck where he could take to the skies, all was a blur, a diminished shadow to him. Was this how Optimus felt? Was this the darkness that always seemed to dim the other's optic, to sober and sombre any joy the other may have?

Mere cycles ago, Megatron could have punched down such feelings behind his wall of hatred, beneath his determination to see each and every Autobot deactivated, and his desire to rip Optimus' spark out with his bare hands. __And now…?__

What ill fate chance had dealt him in this moment, yet he had to take it, to risk whatever opportunity he could to ebb the flow of energon-shed. So it was, as Megatron soared high above the Earth, he turned his thoughts, his very spark, to a ground-bound mech, the one mech who mattered, the mech who could give him that glimpse of a chance.

During Cybertron's golden age, Megatronus had forged a bond of brotherhood with Orion Pax. When Optimus Prime had taken reign over Pax, and Megatronus had hardened into Megatron, that bond rapidly atrophied and then decayed, choked into silence by hatred.

Time marched ruthlessly down upon both titans until at long last, for those brief and glorious cycles, Orion Pax had been resurrected and once again Megatron remembered what it was to feel the overpowering need to defend and protect something… someone.

That bond of brotherhood was still there, ashen and cold, but lingering on still. Megatron turned to it now, focusing that need for his brethren upon on that bond, centring the feeling of what difference he called for through their all but tepid connection.

_Hear me Orion, hear me Optimus, hear me my brother…_

###

And hear him, the Prime did.

Miles away, beneath ancient rock and stone, amidst his Autobots, Optimus felt his once brother's call; he felt the ache, the desperation, and determination. The red and blue mech grew still, blue optics turned dull and distant as he focused upon the fragile connection.

"Optimus?" At first the concern was distant, hesitant. But as the Prime remained fixed, unmoving, Ratchet was quick to understand that something was wrong, very, very wrong. Their Prime would never cease to speak, to move, mid conversation unless something was amiss. "Optimus!" This time his voice carried over to the others within the silo, wresting their attention toward where Ratchet stood before Optimus.

_Hear me Orion…_

"Everything okay, Ratch?" Jack called from where he lingered beside Arcee.

"Something wrong?" Bulkhead echoed the human's concern as the group timidly shifted toward them.

_Hear me, Optimus…_

Unable to elucidate __what__ was wrong, but only that something __was__, Ratchet kept his optics upon his leader, leaving their questions hanging in the sterile air. "Optimus." Ratchet's timber grew sharper in its insistence. "Optimus! Answer me!"

_Hear me, my brother…_

It was the quiet brush of Arcee's hand against his forearm that at last drew Optimus out of his impromptu and unintended stasis. He blinked slowly, refocusing his optics with great effort. The shock and forcefulness of the sudden communication from Megatron had played havoc with his systems and caught him completely by surprise. Lethargically, he willed his systems to resume normal function, shifting his servos. In doing so, he noticed for the first time how all of his Autobots had surrounded him.

There was another touch, this time at his opposite shoulder. Optimus looked over to find Ratchet beside him, ever attentive. "Optimus… can you hear me? Are you alright?"

"I am… forgive me if I startled you," Optimus answered slowly, still searching for equilibrium in the aftermath of Megatron's sudden communication.

"You froze… you wouldn't answer us… it was like you couldn't hear us…" Smokescreen attempted to explain.

"What happened?" Arcee pressed.

Recognizing the impact his words would have, Optimus chose them with great care. "I have received a message…"

"From the Primes?" Ratchet asked.

"From… Megatron."

Ratchet huffed. "Impossible. When you returned to us, when all of your memories were restored, you lost that ability to communicate with Megatron."

Optimus tipped his helm downward in agreement. "So I thought."

"What did he want?" Arcee's words had a harsher, unforgiving edge now.

"It is unclear," Optimus shook his head once. "There were no words… only an exchange of feelings, of intent…"

"Well, what did he seem to want then?" Jack's voice sounded far closer to his audio receptor than he would have expected. Optimus' optics flitted over to see the human youth perched on the platform beside Ratchet's work station; he hadn't seen Jack move up there. Then again, it appeared there were many things he had missed within the last few moments.

"That, too, I am afraid, is uncertain."

Querulously, Ratchet's voice rose again. "Well, what in the name of Primus did you answer back?"

"I have not yet."

"So you, what, just left him hanging? Wait… can he hear us now, through you?" There was no disguising the note of alarm in Smokescreen's voice.

"That's not how that works," Miko shot back, she tapped the top of her head with a closed fist. "Optimus can only hear Megatron in here. In his head, it's like a comm. channel thingy, but only different. They can talk that way because they were brothers."

Smokescreen's optics shifted to become large and round. "They're __what__?!"

Acree ignored them and stepped directly before her Prime, her leader, her friend. "Optimus… are you going to answer him?"

Movements steady and certain, Optimus started toward the far side of the room, toward the tunnel that would yield to the open roads beyond their base. Pausing before the arch of the passage, he turned to regard his Autobots. "If my suspicions are correct… then I find I must answer Megatron's call. Something has irrevocably changed for him to attempt to communicate with me in this manner, and for good or for ill, I must find out what it is."

"Optimus…" Arcee called to him, her delicate features were shaded in worry and doubt. "It could be a trap."

"Yes, such had occurred to me. Nevertheless, I must answer him. I must give him that chance."

And so she, along with the rest of the Autobots, had watched Optimus transform and then depart into the evening waiting beyond the confines of their base. Arcee couldn't describe why, but a sudden wave of despair filled her when he turned the corner and was lost from view. Instinct told her it was a trap, that this so called desperate communication from Megatron must be yet another machination of the Decepticon Warlord.

Around her, the others' voices murmured in hushed conversations, speculating what Megatron could possibly want—Miko and Jack were endeavouring to explain the connection between the two faction leaders to a still astonished Smokescreen—but Arcee heard little of it. Instead, her processor held a vice like grip onto the fact that she had just let her leader, her friend, walk right into a potential trap.

Logically, rationally she knew that Optimus could hold his own in any battle, how well she knew there were few who could ever hope to outmatch the Prime in battle. But such knowledge did little to abate her fears.

Just a handful of cycles ago they had come so very close to losing Optimus forever. When he had lost his memories, Arcee knew how near Megatron had been to swaying Optimus over to the Decepticons' forever. Few were the chinks in Optimus' armour; the Prime's connection to Megatron—Orion's connection to Megatronus—was one of them. Forever bound to his code of honour, his unwillingness to turn a deaf audio receptor upon the whisper of hope that Megatron could be redeemed, could be saved, Optimus would always, always give the Decepticon Warlord that chance.

Not for the first time, Arcee feared such would be Optimus' undoing, his downfall. And if it was… well, she would be damned if she was going to sit idly by. Decided, Arcee crossed the wide-open room with brisk and terse ped-falls. Just as she was about to slide into her terrestrial guise, Ratchet's voice reached out to her.

"Arcee, where are you going?" The older medic kept his tones soft and subdued, as if he did not want the others to hear.

Grimly she turned to face the red and white bot as he approached her. "I am going to defend __my friend__. If it is a trap, then I'm not going to let Optimus face it alone."

For a moment, she believed Ratchet was going to object, to order her to remain at base, to let Optimus handle the situation. Instead, he set his jaw and nodded his helm once, tersely. "Optimus did not order any of us to remain here…" It was as much of a blessing from Ratchet as she was going to get. "Arcee… if something should happen… I can have the ground bridge up faster than you can transform." Which meant that he would be tracking her signal, though he doubtlessly was monitoring Optimus' position as well.

It was a comforting thought. "Thanks, Ratch."

A shade of relief coursed through her aching spark as she completed her transformation and her front tyre hit the ground. Engines reverberating off of the halls, it took her but moments to reach the open road, smooth military grade concrete yielding to pavement. The sun had already set, the stars emerging to yawn above her when Arcee at last found them. Far out, among the rocky desert expanse, it was hard to miss them. In the skeletal moonlight, Megatron's silver frame shone harsh and cutting, while Optimus' colourful hues were cooled under the liquid starlight.

So strange it was to see these two ancient titans walking side by side; the former clearly the product of an ageless existence of war, while the other a testament of strength and endurance. Quietly now, Arcee drew closer into audio receptor range, wondering as she moved in the shadows, if the glaring differences between the two had been this way during Cybertron's golden age.


	2. Chapter 2

She was abruptly drawn out of her ponderings when Megatron whirled suddenly, his thick arms coming down to grip Optimus by each of his shoulders. Sharp denta twisted in a horrible grimace, Megatron loomed over the Autobot leader, fierce to Arcee's optics. Panic assailed her processors as Arcee watched Optimus react; instinctively Prime's hands rising to push against the other's wrists, ready in an instant to grapple with the other.

But from her place in the shadows, so many lengths away from them, Arcee could not see the pain in Megatron's optics, the desperation that painted his expression as Optimus could. This was no attack, no aggressive stance nor threat; rather it was one of desperation. No inkling did she have of such things until he spoke, his timber weathered into a limping rasp. "Look into my spark my brother… I would lay it bare before you now, so that you may see, you may understand the veracity of my intentions…"

And indeed in that moment, Megatron released his grip upon Optimus and sank to one knee before the Autobot Leader. "If you doubt me… then strike me down now…" inviting Megatron spread his claw like hands wide. "My weapons systems are deactivated, no resistance, no threat do I offer to you now, my brother."

Even from where she lingered, Arcee heard Optimus' exvent, and in a rare show of hesitation, Optimus stepped backward, away from the Decepticon, seeking distance from the other. "Megatron do not so quickly claim a bond of brotherhood with me… many are the years and crimes you have committed since we once held such kinship. I am not certain if I can reclaim it so readily with you…"

Slowly, Megatron rose to stand once more before Optimus, his prideful nature surfacing reflexively at the Prime's hesitation to agree. "My crimes, Optimus? You are not without your sins either, Prime. Long is the list of mechs you are responsible for scrapping. The murders you committed are no less brutal or as numerous than mine."

"In war, there is always energon-shed, necessary and unnecessary." Optimus' tone was even, but Arcee recognized the difference in its typically smooth cadence: Megatron's barb had hit its mark. Anger rose within her, bitter and potent; she despised the Decepticon Lord not only for what he had done, but also for who he was. Even as he stood here, claiming to yearn for a peace between himself and Optimus, he still had little difficulty lancing at the Prime with well-aimed and sharp words.

Sorrowfully, Optimus bowed his helm, optics dim in disappointment, "Megatron… there are divides between us I believe will never be breached; it is what destroyed our bond of kinship before."

"I agree, there are many wrongs on both sides… but how well I know that your boasts of holding forgiveness in high regard, of always honouring a mech's right to choose are frequent. Can it be that the eons have hardened your once forgiving spark, Optimus?"

"They have; no less than yourself, Megatron."

Now it was the silver mech's turn to hesitate, studying the other as if seeing him for the first time. "It is Elita-One, isn't it? Her death you cannot forgive, you cannot forget, can you?"

Optimus narrowed his optics, his facial plating clicking into place. "Of the many atrocities you committed, Megatron… hers had nothing to do with the war that ravaged our species…"

"You are right… I killed her to cripple you, because I knew what she was to you, what she could have been to you." Megatron's words fell bluntly, openly without malice or bite of emotion. "I never denied that… but now, I am beginning to see what damage I truly did and I regret it. Hers would be the first death I would undo if I could."

"Your regrets are meaningless now, Megatron."

"No. No, they are not; they cannot be if we have any hope of salvaging what is left of our kind, of our way of life before it is too late. Please Optimus… we cannot let those ghosts deter us now. Can we not join together as brothers, as we once were, to work for a future for our people?"

"Not as we once were, Megatron. I am no more Orion than you are Megatronus. That bond of kinship has long departed, and I know within my spark it is not likely to be regained."

"You would give up then? You whose very designation is to keep the faith? To believe, to always hope?" In a time longer than he could accurately recall, Megatron felt the icy veins of fear wind their way through his spark. Had he at long last driven Optimus beyond his breaking point? Was this where the Prime's patience ended? Disgusted at himself, Megatron lowered his burning optics, taking restless steps away from the Autobot Leader.

_Oh my brother… what these long eons have led me to do to make you hate me so… Before I would have done everything I could have to end you, to take that coveted place of a Prime because I thought to rule was my right… but now… now I see, the power of command has only worked destruction through me… I believe in my very core, if we could have taken this moment to change, to step away from the devastation we have both created, I would have been honoured to call you my Prime… my brother…_

Megatron did not realize he had spoken aloud, until he heard Optimus speak, his velveteen voice closer than he remembered it moments before. "Is this true, Megatron? Do you see clearly now what creature of darkness you have become in your quest for conquest? Do you see now the dangerous precipice our kind now must tread?"

Steady now, calmed in the wake of honesty, Megatron grew still, watching as Optimus drew up to him once more, mere hand spans away.

Briefly the image of the corruption that Cylas had been returned to him, of the blemish and monstrosity the human had inflicted upon Breakdown's remains, and internally he shuddered. To think, he had helped to push Cybertronians to a state of existence in which creatures as weak as humans could overpower a warrior such as Breakdown. No more; it had to stop. They had to rebuild and begin again, this time united. "Yes, Optimus… yes, I see now… and I see what we must do to bring an end to it all…"

"And this cease-fire? This is your solution?"

"The beginning, yes. You and I both know it will take time and work before my Decepticons and your Autobots will be able to live side by side peacefully, as we once had those long eons ago."

"Is this truly what your spark desires now, after all of the war, destruction and chaos? Do you truly desire peace between us, between our factions?" There was no denying the open doubt in the Prime's voice, and Megatron could not condemn him for it.

"Peace? What a very un-Decepticon like topic, my master." Both titans turned sharply at the unlooked for interruption and could only stare in shock as the sinuous voice and the mech it belonged to winded their way closer.

"__Knock Out!"__ Megatron snarled with a long remembered formidable temper. "You were under orders to remain at the ship!" With Optimus here, Megatron did not dare to bring up Cylas; it was yet another act his brother would never understand nor approve of. Hoping that Knock Out would catch on for the need of secrecy for such matters, Megatron simultaneously contacted the Decepticon medic on a private communication channel. __Is it done?__

A lazy, insolent smile curved across Knock Out's face as he performed a graceful and equally impertinent salute in answer to Megatron's silent and verbal outburst. "How good it is to see you again, Optimus Prime! I see you are looking as displeased with Megatron as ever." Knock Out's mocking tones carried far into the desert night even as he responded briskly to Megatron's private query. __Not a whisper nor a single trace__.

"If peace really is possible, you would do well to learn to respect Optimus! He is our Prime and would deserve no less from you." With Knock Out's sudden appearance, Arcee could no longer afford to stand idly by as a spectator, and her words, biting and defensive, rang out from mere steps behind Optimus. Unlike Megatron, Optimus did not react to her presence—it made her wonder if he had known she was there all along—instead he kept his gaze upon the two Decepticons before them.

Optics trained upon the sleek femme, Knock Out purred. "I'd be happy to learn a little respect from you, Arcee. How luminous your frame is in the moonlight, my dear. You must know your way around a buffer… of course buffing is always best done with two bots rather than one, perhaps you and I could—"

"__Knock Out! Contain yourself!" __Megatron's snarl was a whip crack of thunder silencing the red mech even as Optimus shifted to stand in front of Arcee, his stance protective, blocking her from Knock Out's view while also serving to keep her from answering Knock Out in any violent manner.

"Megatron…" Optimus rumbled, drawing the silver mech's attention once more. "I believe this is a conversation best continued at another time. However, I will agree to abide by your terms of the cease-fire for as long as you and your Decepticons do."

"A wise and gracious decision, my brother."

Rather than reply, Optimus chose to turn, guiding Arcee as he moved, to walk a comfortable distance away, contacting Ratchet for a ground bridge as he did so. Just as she was about to enter the green and blue light way that had blossomed in the darkness, Arcee heard Knock Out's voice, lazily echoing over to her. "Keep it humming, Arcee… that gear suits you just fine."

Humiliation and embarrassment flooded her systems at the fact that he would dare speak to her in such a way in front of her leader, while anger at his blatant disrespect for her and Optimus galvanized her to clenched her fists, pivoting with the intent to run out of the ground bridge and tear the smirk right off of Knock Out's face.

But before she could take so much as a single step, she felt an immense weight press down upon her shoulder, in a firm though gentle grip, Optimus reached over to Arcee and pushed her in front of him. Succinctly blocking her from making such an attack on Knock Out, altering her course and forcing her to walk through the ground bridge and back into the safe confines of their base.

As the floor rematerialized beneath her peds, Arcee turned in time to watch the swirling vortex of green and blue lights collapse into nothingness, sealing them with finality inside the base and leaving Megatron and Knock Out in the potent darkness of the night.

Infuriated, Arcee shouldered her way past a startled Bulkhead and Smokescreen—who, along with the others, had clustered around them the moment they exited the ground bridge—in her attempt to reach the tunnel that would take her out of the base.

"Arcee." Optimus' voice rolled over her in a fierce and sonorous wall of sound. There was no disobeying the depth of that mighty timber. "You will stop where you stand." Optimus half turned toward Ratchet, his basso gentling. "In light of what has transpired today, I need you to summon Wheeljack back to base. There may be many changes unfolding far swifter than we may have previously anticipated. If this is the case, I want all Autobots not only accounted for, but made fully aware of the situation."

"Which is?" Ratchet fisted his hands on his sides.

Optimus exvented, making no attempt to disguise the weary sound. "I will speak with all of you about our current situation once Wheeljack joins us… first, Arcee and I will have words."

Frame stiff and a scowl darkening her features, Arcee reluctantly fell in step with Optimus and together they once again left the confines of their base. But as the vaulted night sky opened up above them, Optimus drew up short and faced her squarely. Under that piercing gaze, Arcee's resolve was shaken: few were the times when she had witnessed the Prime visibly upset, and now, to be on the receiving end of that formidable temper…

When he spoke it was with an arctic basso thundering in his voice. "Arcee… it was not your place to follow me tonight."

Arcee bristled at his words. "My place, Optimus? It is my place to defend my Prime, just as it is with any one of us!"

"No, it is not Arcee. Perhaps at another time, at another stage of these deliberations, it would be your place to ask to join me. Do not think it is because I do not trust you, but tonight your presence was an intrusion upon a conversation that was meant to be between only Megatron and myself. If we are to attempt to build a lasting peace and bring this war to an end, there are first many things he and I must come to a conclusion about. Your presence at such conversations clouds my judgement, for I cannot effectively communicate with Megatron if I am constantly concerning myself with how you will react. Yours is one of the most faithful and well-meaning intentions I have ever encountered in an Autobot… but yours is a temper that often gets the better of your judgement."

"Optimus, I—"

Calmly, he lifted one hand, silencing her. "I am not asking you to understand, at least not yet. I am asking you to respect my wishes. I do not want to issue orders to you, nor do I desire to confine you to base. For the moment, I want to give you some time to reflect over what you have heard and witnessed this evening before Wheeljack arrives. We will speak again when you have collected your thoughts logically and calmly. Understood, Arcee?"

Unable to do anything other than that, she gave him a curt nod. "Understood."

Before he left her to some solitude beneath the night sky, he turned to her, his mighty voice softened with concern. "Arcee… if you ask it of me, I will secure you protection from Knock Out or any advances he may attempt."

"Optimus, I want you to know that I despised everything Knock Out said, and all that he is and stands for. That he would utter such things aloud the way he did…" Arcee shuddered, again feeling the same embarrassment and humiliation rise within her at the memory of Knock Out's attempts at flirtation.

"Such is your choice… know that whatever you decide, I will help you defend your choice."

Numbly she nodded, and just as he turned away, she let impulse get the better of her and blurted: "Optimus… you don't have to forgive Megatron for Elita's death… no matter what happens with these so called peace talks… you do not have to forgive him…"

His movements were arrested mid-step at the sound of Elita's name, and for many long moments he remained silent, contemplating. "She was your spark mate, wasn't she? She must have been…" Arcee tentatively ventured. "I never knew… never thought that Primes could have spark mates… I always thought it was too great of a risk… and I never heard anything about you being bonded to her… or to anyone before…"

"It is a Prime's duty to lead a solitary life of service to Primus and to his people…" Optimus spoke softly at last. "… Elita and I had a bond before I became Prime… we would have become spark mates had I not been bestowed the mantel of Prime by the counsel. But I broke our bond to protect her… yet for all my efforts, I failed… and Megatron killed her anyway."

Humbled by such a rare and personal revelation, Arcee couldn't help but to close the distance between them and gently lay a hand on his forearm. "Optimus… I am sorry…"

His optics searched hers for a long moment, before he at last answered. "As am I… her death is as much my fault as Megatron's."

"That's not true; you cannot blame yourself for that."

Optimus bowed his helm, lifting his opposite hand to gently place it atop hers for a brief moment. "Go, Arcee… take some time to listen to your spark, as I value your insights. When you return, we will speak again." He was gone then, moving surprisingly swiftly and silently for a mech of his size.

Taking several slow and deep exvents, Arcee at last made the transformation into her terrestrial guise, relishing the feel of the tarmac beneath her tyres as she winded her way toward, and at last, into Jasper. Her thought had been to merely drive by the Darby's residence to check on June, whom she knew should be just getting home from her shift at the hospital by now. As fate would have it, Arcee wasn't halfway across town when she turned a corner and nearly collided with a sleek red sports car. Surprise and rage fuelled her transformation as her weapons systems hummed to life.

"__You__." She snarled in a venomous hatred as she watched him transform as well.

Never one to be off-put, Knock Out merely offered her his signature lazy grin. "How's my favourite two-wheeler humming?" He offered with a wolf-whistle.

* * *

**A/N**: Updates will be every two to three days, up until ch 8.


	3. Chapter 3

"Your two-wheeler? __Your__ two-wheeler?! I'm not your two-wheeler, Decepticon! I belong to no-one!" With her weapons ready to fire at a moment's notice, Arcee took a step forward, poised to strike if Knock Out retaliated.

Knock Out made no move to incite an angry Autobot's vengeance on him, refusing to draw on his medic weaponry. Instead, he opened his arms in a peace gesture. "Our leaders agreed to a cease-fire, remember? Or could my presence be so enjoyable you forgot, my dear Arcee? Perhaps I should introduce you to my buffer-"

"Cut the slag, Knock Out!" Arcee snapped, her plasma gun aimed right at his spark chamber. She was determined to not hear anymore of his humiliating comments. "Why are you in Jasper?!"

Knock Out merely hummed, before answering. "Breakdown would have been interested in your courage, my dear. He valued that in femmes. Such a pity he's not alive anymore. Oh, where was I? Why I'm in Jasper… I was looking for you, of course. Arcee, Lord Megatron has changed for the better and his select few will be joining him. I advise getting used to the situation now or you might end up scrap."

"Who else is coming under the cease-fire?!" Arcee needed to know, had to report the information to Optimus.

"I really should introduce you to my buffer-" Arcee loaded the second gun. Both were now aimed at his spark chamber. "Okay, not entirely sure, but I think Soundwave and Dreadwing are falling in under Megatron. Don't know who else, I swear." Knock Out panicked and cringed away, hoping Arcee wouldn't terminate him.

Considering her options, Arcee stared directly into Knock Out's optics, trying to discern if he was telling the truth. Though his optics were wide with fear, Arcee could see no lies in them. Releasing a heavy exvent, Arcee lowered her weapons and disengaged them, stepping back at the same time. "You're telling the truth," she admitted reluctantly, realizing the cease-fire was just what the Autobots needed.

"Of course I am, my dear." Knock Out purred, grinning cheekily and feeling emboldened by Arcee's acceptance of the truth. Seeing that Arcee was in a daze, he reached out and brushed his digits along the side of her face.

Arcee recoiled instantly, her optics narrowing in indignation. "Knock Out, what the slag are you doing?!"

Unwilling to answer her as he realized just what boundary he'd crossed, Knock Out backed away, transforming as he did so. "Until we meet again," he called as he drove off.

Mentally, the medic beat himself over the helm. How could he have been such a fool, touching her when she was not fully aware of what was going on around her? He found himself unable to resist her charm, though; but that was going to get him into trouble, he was sure of it. Knock Out concluded then that he didn't care what reservations Megatron and Optimus had about them, he just wanted a relationship with his two-wheeler, his Arcee.

"Get back here, Knock Out!" Arcee yelled at his retreating form, but he didn't answer. Instead, he accelerated and tore off into the night. Arcee made a noise of unhappiness, turning away and changing into her alt-mode. She raced along the streets of Jasper, heading back to the base. "Ratchet, requesting ground-bridge. I have information that Optimus needs to hear."

As Ratchet prepared to open the ground-bridge, another Autobot entered through the tunnel in his race car-alt mode. Smokescreen let out a whoop of joy and Bulkhead crowded in close as Wheeljack shifted into robot mode.

"Hey Bulk, hey kid," the ex-Wrecker greeted as he strode forward. Truthfully, Wheeljack had never left Earth after returning to hunt Dreadwing – instead lying low, watching all the Decepticon mines and waiting for the perfect car to go past that he could scan.

It was after scanning the perfect car that he got word from Ratchet that he was needed at the base. Apparently, Optimus wanted to update all available Autobots on the Decepticon-issued cease-fire agreement. 'Jackie' didn't believe it for one second, but was stunned speechless when Optimus himself informed him the Prime had agreed to the terms. As such, he was given the co-ordinates for the road leading to the base and was advised to arrive as soon as he could.

Now the only missing member was Arcee, who was just emerging from the ground-bridge in her alt-mode. She transformed into robot mode and glanced around, seeing that everyone was present. Optimus approached her and she began to speak, gaining everyone else's attention. "Knock Out gave me some information on just who will be joining Megatron under the cease-fire."

"What did Knock Out say?" The Prime questioned his second-in-command, his optics searching Arcee's face. He hoped the medic would learn his place in this new alliance, but Optimus would not hesitate to come down on the Aston Martin like a tonne of bricks if he learned that Knock Out had harmed Arcee in any way.

Arcee hesitated, clearly recalling the moment Knock Out touched her.

"Arcee? Did something happen? Did Knock Out harm-" Optimus started to inquire, but Arcee cut him off.

"No," she answered briskly, the tension in her vocalizer obvious to everyone present. Optimus' optics narrowed at the response. "His digits brushed my face. It was harmless," Arcee added, clarifying for good measure.

Prime let out a decidedly heavy exvent and Arcee continued with her report. "Knock Out believes Soundwave and Dreadwing will be joining Megatron. There's possibly a fifth 'con coming, but Knock Out didn't know who."

"Very well," Optimus replied in his velveteen timber. It wasn't as much information as he had hoped, but it would do for now. He dismissed Arcee and turned to the rest of the Autobots in his faction. "From tonight," the Prime began, "the cease-fire is initiated. I do not want any of you to engage a Decepticon in battle. Anyone who breaks the cease-fire will be answerable to me. Is that understood?"

Wheeljack glanced at his comrades, still disbelieving of the situation, before turning back to Optimus. The ex-Wrecker chose to nod instead of answer verbally, something the Prime noted with an arched optic ridge.

The other Autobots had no qualms in answering their leader. "Yes, Optimus." They spoke as a single unit, with Bumblebee's beeps and clicks being his reply.

While that was happening, Knock Out had long since requested a ground bridge to the Nemesis from Soundwave and was now on board the warship. Megatron was facing Soundwave and Knock Out noticed his Lord was pretending to be cross with the M9 Reaper communications officer. "Soundwave, my orders were that the ship was in lock-down and everyone was to stay on board!"

Soundwave merely looked over at Knock Out who grinned back, before returning his visor to Megatron's optics. "__Megatron wanted Knock Out to go to his location__," the spy drone answered with his rarely heard vocalizer.

Megatron gave a short chuckle. "I did indeed. How perceptive of you, my dear Soundwave. You know me too well. Your instincts are well honed from the Pits of Kaon. Our first match was quite the battle, wasn't it?"

Soundwave didn't reply, choosing to turn back to the communications desk. The next thing Megatron knew was that the Nemesis was being hailed. By a Decepticon. Megatron turned away briefly, perplexed by the call. All of his forces were accounted for on the Nemesis.

"… Shoc-wave to Lord Megatron."

Stunned at the sheer possibility that his chief scientist was still alive, Megatron hastily replied: "Shockwave. Where are you?"

"Cybertron, my Lord. I was left for scrap after the space bridge explosion. Why did no one come back for me?"

Megatron paused at this, not really knowing the answer. He, along with most of his troops, thought Shockwave had died in said explosion. The ex-gladiator came to a realization quickly, however. "A moment, Shockwave." __Starscream, get your miserable hide here at once!__ Megatron commed the Seeker and dual second-in-command, fury evident in his tone. "The reason for your abandonment is on their way here as I speak, Shockwave. You will receive a full apology."

"Your concern is logical, my Lord. I wish to be space bridged onto the Nemesis; I've made significant advances in my research during my absence."

"Certainly, Shockwave." Megatron turned to Soundwave. "Open a bridge." Soundwave nodded and pinpointed Shockwave's location, opening a bridge for the scientist.

As Shockwave came through the space bridge, Starscream arrived, his wings tilted downward in clear distress. "You summoned me, Lord Megatron?" The Seeker questioned, his tone full of fear. What had he done this time to anger his liege?

"Starscream!" Megatron whirled on the F22 Raptor, as Shockwave stared silently. "You disgrace Seekers everywhere! I've given you more chances to redeem yourself than most other leaders would. You did not tell me Shockwave was still alive. Explain yourself!"

"T-The explosion… it damaged the power core chamber… The last thing anyone witnessed was you charging into the space bridge portal… No one saw you come back out..." Starscream panicked under Shockwave's emotionless gaze.

"I find your reply to be logical," Shockwave answered.

Starscream exvented in relief as Shockwave's pede-falls stalked away from him. "You will be pleased to know," Shockwave paused and turned his head a little, "I avenged your seeming demise by personally terminating the Autobot, Cliffjumper." The Seeker chuckled, thinking Shockwave would praise him, but frowned when the scientist ignored him.

With his servos crossed in front of him, Knock Out spoke, his helm moving to the side. "Careful, Starscream. You may dislocate a landing gear patting yourself on the back."

Starscream placed a servo across his chest plates. "As Megatron's dual first lieutenant, allow me to welcome you back to the winning team." He followed in Megatron's wake as Soundwave, Knock Out and Shockwave trailed after their Lord.

Dreadwing shook his helm in disdain.

"And allow me to clarify the new chain of command," Megatron stated, half turning to include Dreadwing in his glance. "Under the cease-fire, Arcee and Dreadwing are the first lieutenants and will report to both Optimus and myself. Soundwave will continue reporting to me and you, Shockwave, will report to the two of us as-"

"My lord," Shockwave interrupted. "I was not told of a cease-fire. What has changed in my absence?"

Megatron turned properly to face his soldiers. "The War is over now, Shockwave. The Autobots agreed to the terms of my peace treaty."

It was the first Starscream had heard of this. "Impossible, lord Megatron!" He protested. "Fighting defines the Decepticons! Glory to us forever!"

"Silence, Starscream!" Megatron yelled. "It is over. My word is final."

Shockwave bowed his head and Dreadwing joined his companions. The bulky Seeker kneeled in front of Megatron, while Shockwave bowed his head.

"As you wish, my lord."

Rising, Dreadwing concluded his pact. "I will follow you, lord Megatron."

Shockwave strode forward. He explained that during his exile on Cybertron, he resumed work on a long dormant project. One that he believed would provide a solution to any uprising from their own forces. Shockwave pressed a button on the computer that brought up a diagram of a CNA sample.

"Cyber nucleic acid," Knock Out stated in wonder.

Shockwave nodded. "The building blocks of all Cybertronian life. This hails from a specimen I excavated upon our planet. It's yielded promising results."

Knowing of his student's plans, Knock Out stepped forward, one servo over his grill. "Turbostreak is planning something, my liege. We can't afford to wait."

Shockwave focused his single eye on the medic. "You misunderstand. This subject has been fully cultivated and need only be transported from my laboratory on Cybertron."

Raising a servo to beckon Soundwave and nodding his helm at Knock Out's concern, Megatron replied. "Then, by all means, activate the space bridge."

Going through the space bridge into his laboratory, Shockwave pressed a couple of buttons and charged the generator that connected to the experiment's tube. The dragon-like beast within opened its yellow optics as the fluid inside the tube began to drain away.


	4. Chapter 4

While he was waiting for Shockwave to return with his subject, Megatron tapped a metal digit against the desk. When Soundwave opened the bridge again, the tapping stopped as Shockwave came back through. "I present to you, my liege, the ultimate hunter." He motioned with one servo behind him as the beast stepped through the space bridge.

The Vehicons, Starscream, even Knock Out cowered as they took in its fearsome appearance. It was a very draconic Cybertronian. Knock Out wondered if it could transform or would be able to later on.

"A Predacon." Knock Out vented in shock, knowing exactly what the beast was. "Th-They've been extinct since the beginning of Cybertronian history."

"Indeed." Shockwave responded, taking slow ped-falls towards the Predacon. "But the specimen you see before you was bred in the laboratory. Cloned from fossilized remains, which I discovered on Cybertron."

Megatron walked towards his scientist. "Shockwave, it does my spark good. Once again tampering with creation."

"My master, please… keep your distance." Knock Out fretted as Megatron closed the distance.

Shockwave shook his head and reached out with a servo. "No need for alarm; the beast is completely under my control."

The Predacon leaned forward and studied Megatron. "Such primal magnificence," the ex-gladiator vented, in awe of the Cybertronian.

While the Predacon was getting used to its masters, a certain black and yellow medic student was in Knock Out's private room.

Turbostreak was a tall mech, whose alt mode was a Bugatti Veyron. His faceplate and helm were coloured yellow, along with his upper arms, servos and upper legs. The rest of his form was coloured black. Like Knock Out, he had red optics, only his had smaller, lighter coloured pupils. He had a pair of car doors on his arms, as well as tyres on his shoulder struts and above his pedes.

He was currently picking through Knock Out's medical files, looking for something. "Ah, here it is." His pretentious tone indicated he couldn't care less about Megatron's cease-fire. __This will be the first step__, he gloated. __The first step to reigniting the War__. What the Autobot Bulkhead would kill Knock Out for when the ex-Wrecker learned the medic had terminated his rival, regardless of whether the human was inside the former warrior called Breakdown or not.

Starscream had slipped out when the Predacon first arrived and was meeting with his personally chosen replacement for Soundwave, Airwar. The SR 71 Blackbird communications officer, who would work for him along with Turbostreak and two other mechs, was the finest expert on stealth he laid optics on. Even Soundwave, whose alt mode was a spy drone, couldn't compare to Airwar's superiority.

Airwar was even taller than Turbostreak and was coloured a very dark grey, almost black. When engaged in battle, Airwar held a long plasma blaster in both hands like Dreadwing's weapon of choice. Most times, though, he would remain on the Nemesis, orchestrating his web of communications.

"Greetings, Airwar! You summoned me away from Lord Megatron, I must thank you for that. What have you decided on?" Starscream practically grovelled at Airwar's pedes, as if the Blackbird was of a higher rank than the Seeker.

Airwar knew Starscream was just showing off on purpose and swatted at him with a servo to get up off of the floor. "We will rise up tomorrow after the traitors join the Autobots," the stealth fighter answered in a low-pitched masculine voice. "Wildbang and Steelsplitter are ready, yes?"

Starscream nodded his helm. "Yes, Airwar, they're ready. So are the Vehicons."

They were more than ready to seize control of the Nemesis when Megatron and his select few joined the Autobots on Earth in their base tomorrow. At this point, Starscream didn't care if Megatron found out about their plans to take over from where he left off. The Seeker figured it wouldn't matter to him anyway, since he wouldn't be staying aboard the warship. None of them would, only those who refused to changed sides would be on the Nemesis.

Starscream spread his servos in the air, rejoicing silently as Airwar watched on, before the Blackbird turned back to his desk.

Night passed and morning eventually came. With it, a blue two-wheeled motorbike raced along the country road at her highest speed. Arcee reflected on the sudden terms that had changed the Autobots' situation hopefully for the better. They would be getting a boost to their numbers and more Autobots might come to join their cause, to fight for Optimus. She hoped that was the case, she missed quite a few of her old comrades.

Arcee screeched to a halt when her sensors detected a Seeker nearby. She transformed and brought her plasma guns online, wariness stiffening her posture as she sought out the exact position of the Decepticon.

"It is alright, two-wheeler." The 'con turned from his position at the hill he was standing on, revealing himself to be Dreadwing. "I have no intention of harming you or any other Autobot. My designation is Dreadwing. I was enjoying the early morning scenery."

Arcee huffed at Dreadwing's use of Knock Out's 'two-wheeler' term, but reluctantly disengaged her weapons and took a step back when Dreadwing walked down to meet her. She noticed the bulky Seeker seemed bothered by something and was hesitant to ask what the cause was.

"Are you alright, Dreadwing?" Arcee steeled her nerves after the question, cautious in case Dreadwing attacked.

The Seeker studied Arcee's face briefly, before turning away, appearing to be burdened by sorrow. "Much has changed since I led the Seeker armada back on Cybertron," he admitted, not liking the changes.

He had lost his spark twin, Skyquake, due to Starscream's incompetence and, even now, still grieved. More so when he learned Starscream had raised Skyquake from the dead with Dark Energon and fled after a failed attempt to kill the Terrorcon. Dreadwing, at the time, wanted to severely terminate the smaller Seeker, but promised Megatron he wouldn't go near Starscream again.

"Adjusting isn't easy," Arcee responded in a weary tone.

She knew that more than anyone; after all, she had lost two partners before – Tailgate and Cliffjumper – and had very nearly lost Jack to Airachnid.

"It is not." Dreadwing agreed, nodding his helm. "But we must do what we can to survive."

Arcee finally asked the question. "Who did you lose?"

Glancing at her, the Seeker answered: "My spark twin, Skyquake. I considered him my brother."

Arcee explained that her two previous partners had been offlined by Airachnid and Starscream respectively. Each time, the loss had shaken her badly but she had found it within herself to regain her composure and come back stronger. "I hope you have the same luck," she added to Dreadwing.

"I am sure I will, considering you are the other half of Lord Megatron and Optimus' lieutenants." Dreadwing answered, clenching his servo into a fist. He still was not sure how he felt about Megatron's cease-fire plan with the Autobots, but decided it could not be all bad if he was here talking to an Autobot the day after he found out.

"What? I'm a lieutenant?" Arcee was shocked at this revelation. She couldn't believe her audio processors.

"Yes," Dreadwing confirmed, explaining that Megatron had declared the new 'chain of command' last night on the Nemesis. The Seeker added that Megatron's small group were set to move into the base to join the Autobots sometime today.

"Whoa! Just stop!" Arcee protested, putting her servos out in the universal 'stop' gesture. "Megatron's moving things along too quickly. Optimus needs to finish their conversation first, before the group goes anywhere."

The process was proceeding far too quickly for Arcee to grasp, but she knew she had to stall their departure a while and get back to the base to report the new information to her Prime. How was she going to…?

"I alone unfortunately can not stop my lord's commands," Dreadwing apologized, his wide optics showing how sorry he was. He did not like this as much as the two-wheeler, but Megatron had already set the plan into motion. If the Seeker knew Megatron as well as he did, Dreadwing knew little if not nothing would stop Megatron now. The plan was too far set.

Arcee wildly looked around. "There must be something you can do." She was fishing for some ray of hope and Dreadwing realized this.

He smiled faintly. "I might be able to convince Airwar to have a mock battle with me," the Seeker tried reassuring.

Arcee locked optics with him. "Thank you. Any amount of stalling is helpful." She transformed and tore off, her wheels skimming along the road back to the base. Arcee waited a few minutes, before contacting Ratchet. "Requesting ground bridge. I have more information for Optimus."

"__Understood__," she heard back from the gruff Autobot medic. He clearly pulled the lever down as a ground bridge opened metres in front of her.

Transforming into her robot mode as soon as she cleared the portal, Arcee immediately looked for Optimus. "Megatron's set to move in here today," she began when she saw him. "Met with and discussed things with Dreadwing. Apparently, I'm one of two lieutenants who reports to both you and Megatron."

"Are you absolutely sure that is what Dreadwing said?" Optimus asked, his optics narrowing in concern.

He could understand why Arcee was so desperate to return to the base with the information, but why was Megatron rushing things? The Autobot leader didn't understand that; he hadn't yet had the chance to finish his conversation with Megatron and was now more determined to do so. The Prime wanted to get Megatron's side of the story, to grasp his motivation for speeding things up.

Arcee bowed her helm in confirmation and looked up at her leader. "Yes, Optimus. Dreadwing said he could try and delay the process by engaging Airwar in a mock battle, but I'm not sure how successful he'll be."

Optimus appeared contemplative. "Very well," he spoke at length. "I shall go to meet him and find out why. Arcee, you will remain here. Ratchet, keep an eye on all of them."

"Understood, Optimus," the medic replied as Optimus transformed and drove off.

Arcee didn't like the fact that, this time, she'd been told to stay behind, but endured it as best she could. A niggling feeling kept bothering her, as if Dreadwing hadn't shared his knowledge of everything that had happened on the Nemesis that night, as if something bigger than any of them was coming. What was it, though? That's what bothered her.

As Arcee pondered, Smokescreen froze, his optics dulling as he received a vision.

One of the Thirteen original Primes was a bestial bronze and black mech with a distinctive draconian appearance. He folded down into the form of a great dragon and slunk forwards. Onyx Prime, the first Predacon Cybertronian, craned his long neck out, sniffing at Smokescreen whilst circling him like a large armoured jungle cat. Smokescreen tried to stay perfectly still, but when the fanged maw of the beast Prime got a little too close for comfort he instinctively flinched.

"Hmm." Onyx growled, slinking around him in circles, a forked silver glossa flicking out from his maw occasionally in the same manner as a serpent. "Yes, you are perfect. You are what they need to change the tide of battle. Predaking will be your creator."

Smokescreen balked, unconsciously not liking where this was going. What was Onyx talking about? More importantly: who was Predaking and why would he be his creator? The rookie's questions, however, would go unanswered.

Onyx vanished, heading towards his next intended customer. None other than Optimus Prime himself. While Optimus was driving towards the location where he last met Megatron, his brakes suddenly came into play and he screeched to a halt. Transforming, he wondered why, until a message came.

"__Predaking is coming and an Autobot will change species__." The speaker identified themselves as Onyx Prime.


	5. Chapter 5

"Predaking is coming…"

Such a voice, spoken from within the depths of the Matrix of Leadership, washed over Optimus, forcing his transformation. Unprepared as his pedes hit the dry earth of the desert, the Prime sank to his knees, hands lifting to press against his ringing audio receptors as the voice of an ancient entity thundered within his processor mercilessly. "An Autobot will change…"

It took longer than Optimus cared to admit to himself for his systems to reset themselves, for his optics to focus again. But when his cerulean optics lifted from their fixated stare at the ground, it was to find that the sands were far from uninhabited. A creature unlike any other sat before him, proud and haughty, every hardened panel radiating an exquisite viciousness. A low, thrumming growl echoed from the draconic form that waited so patiently before him.

"How the line of Primes has diminished over the eons…" The deep bite of the voice condemned Optimus. "… Still, you were chosen by Primus himself, you were bestowed with our namesake and so I call upon you now, brethren Prime. Arise and ready yourself for what approaches upon swift wing-beats."

Systems at last settling, Optimus rose, clenching his fists in preparation for anything. The Matrix of Leadership resonated within him, confirming to his spark and processor alike that the creature standing before him now was indeed a Prime.

"Onyx Prime… a Predacon Prime? I did not know any of the Predacons served Primus in such a way…I did not think a Predacon Prime was possible…"

"There is much you do not know, Optimus Prime." Onyx Prime snarled, the annunciation of 'Prime' dripped with venomous mockery as the titanic being shifted his immense wingspan. A low, yet powerful growl resonated in the draconic Prime's throat as he flared his energon infused membranes wide in aggravation, the sentiment echoed distantly back to Optimus through the Matrix.

Optimus' mighty timber softened as he endeavoured to treat the other's scorn with gentility. "I meant no insult. Truly you are a servant of Primus, I am honoured by your presence and your words."

"Good." Mollified, Onyx tucked his bronze tipped black wings once more against his curved back, shifting to rise to his four legs, claws gouging deep into the desert sand. Optimus was a large mech by Autobot and Decepticon standards alike but, as Onyx Prime advanced, the draconic Prime loomed over Optimus effortlessly. "Then listen well… the tides are turning. Heed my words, embrace the change and the waters of war will ebb at last between the Autobots and Decepticons."

Peace? Filaments of hope flitted through Optimus' war-wearied Spark. This fellow servant of Primus hinted at true and lasting peace between the Autobots and Decepticons? Optimus hardly dared to hope. For too long had he merely struggled to exist in the tempest of war, it had defined him, remade him into merely a construct of violence. Gone were the days—the peaceful days—in which Optimus had spent his time devoted to interpreting and following Primus' will. His rank of Prime had been to reduce to merely that: a rank, hollow of everything save violence and leadership. Always a peace-loving bot to his very Spark, Optimus was long past ready to give up such a war-mantle for peace.

Bowing his might helm in a genuine show of respect, Optimus addressed the former Prime again: "Always do I welcome a sending from Primus and I am honoured by such a visitation from one of the Original Thirteen. I humbly ask you to share your wisdom with me, and know it will not fall upon deaf audio receptors."

A low, sonorous chuckle escaped between Onyx Prime's sharpened mandibles, clicking them together softly, he craned his serpentine neck forward, stretching the limits of the illusion of his sending. "Listen…" he breathed, even as the outlines of his forms began to fade, his allotted time in such a form running thin. "… Choose your brethren well, but swiftly. There is a mech among your Autobots whose spark I will take in sacrifice to begin anew what was lost. You will help him, indeed help all of them, to embrace the flames of his re-forging."

Onyx Prime's ghostly image dissipated as his last works dropped with diamond clarity upon Optimus' spark and audio receptors alike. "Make your peace with Smokescreen, his destiny belongs to a higher cause… fear not. Primus walks with you, favourite servant of our creator…"

As the last vestiges of the vision evaporated, Optimus' strength went with it and again the red and blue mech found his shin plates pressed into the sand of the Nevada desert. Processors awhirl, Optimus did not have long to reflect on Onyx Prime's message. A flash of silver digits, tapered sharp, descended from the blackness—Optimus could not remember when the daylight had succumbed to nightfall—and fastened upon his shoulders. Instinct answered the unexpected touch against his plating and Optimus surged to his pedes, weapons systems coming online and summoning the harsh, silver bright edges of the blades within his wrists. Guided by habits ingrained from millennia of battle, Optimus swung his right arm forward, unerring the tip danced against the silver chassis of the mech who had ambushed him.

"Optimus… my brother… it is I…" Humbled and tentative, Megatron's voice broke through the film of uncertainty that Onyx Prime had incited. Red optics met blue as the Decepticon Warlord stood, his own weapons systems inert as he held his hands out and open, peaceful and unthreatening. In that moment, Optimus was struck by the oddity of it. His once bitter foe would have used such weakness against him, would have exploited such an opportunity to strike him down. But now…now Optimus only read concern in the depths other's optics. How much it looked that Megatron was truly genuine about reclaiming the peace that had been shattered not only between their two factions, but between their bond of brotherhood as well.

With a wearied exvent, Optimus lowered his arm, detracting the blades. "Megatron…" He annunciated slowly. "… Forgive me; I was not myself."

Unerring trust reflecting in the depths of Megatron's alizarin optics, the Decepticon lord advanced, closing the space between them in slow movements tempered by a wish to convey no threat. "What do you mean? Has something happened?"

Optimus saw no need to conceal the truth from Megatron. "I received a vision from one of the Thirteen."

Megatron's optics searched Optimus'. "… And?"

"And…" Optimus' timber of velvet rumbled forth, steady at last, "we have much work to do… together." This time when the Prime stretched out his right arm, it was to rest the palm of his hand against the panel that protected Megatron's spark. "The waters of war are ebbing, and we must ensure they will remain calmed, forever… my brother." Decided by Onyx Prime's message of both peace and foreboding, Optimus made the choice he never thought he would ever have again: he renewed his connection to Megatron, opening the communication channel between his Spark-bound brother that had lain centuries dormant.

Megatron did not hesitate to answer, accepting the bond as he mirrored Optimus' gesture, placing his palm in turn upon the panel that shielded Optimus' spark. Happiness bled through the darkness his spark had been suspended within for so long. No longer entrenched in hatred, no longer alone…My brother…long have I missed you… the words echoed to Optimus, undiluted by the pain of a communication forced through severed connections.

Come, walk with me, my brother…speak with me about how we can achieve peace between our factions. Gone was the need to utilize spoken words between them; brothers reunited, their thoughts flowed between them untainted and untarnished. The marvel of something so rare, recovered from so long, long ago was not lost on either of them.

* * *

"Smokescreen!"

Arcee's cry of dismay rent the air even as Ratchet and Bulkhead moved to support the youngest mech among them. All sense of equilibrium lost, Smokescreen shuttered his optics, his knee joints failing him utterly under the assault of the apparition. But as swiftly as the vision had appeared, did it leave him. Dread filled his spark as his memory core replayed the fearsome creatures' proclamation, the grating and foreign voice ghosting in his audio receptors, "…you are what they need to change the tide of battle. Predaking will be your creator."

"Smokescreen." Even in his disorientation, there was no ignoring the authoritative bark in Ratchet's voice. "Answer me, Smokescreen! What's wrong? What's happened?"

Still reeling, frantically his internal systems struggled to right themselves, to rectify the intrusion to his neural net. Unlike Optimus, Smokescreen lacked the power of the Matrix of Leadership that could have helped to steady his systems more swiftly, moreover, he lacked the strength of the Prime that would have allowed him to endure the trauma of a visitation from another Prime—and one of the original Thirteen, no less.

At a loss to Smokescreen's predicament, Arcee looked to Ratchet for answers. "Why isn't he responding? Why does he not answer?"

"It's like he can't hear us…" Bulkhead echoed her concern.

The eye of their storm, Ratchet held calm and steady. "Wheeljack, help Bulkhead move Smokescreen to the med-chamber." Though it was an easy enough task for the two Wreckers, it was far more difficult for the Autobots to look on helplessly as Smokescreen rested in the chamber, lulled into a soothing stasis by Ratchet's deftly applied sedatives, optics extinguished and shuttered.

Fisting her hands on her hips, Arcee rounded on Ratchet once more, allowing her spark to detach, to drown out the feelings from her emotional core, with a battlefield calm, she watched the medic's digits fly across the monitors, performing scans and collecting data from Smokescreen's systems. "Well? What happened to him?"

"I… I'm not sure… these readings don't make sense…" Ratchet faltered, optics searching, searching, searching through the streams of data.

"C'mon Doc, you can do better than that." Wheeljack pressed. "At least tell us you can repair the rookie, you can fix whatever has his systems on the fritz, right?"


	6. Chapter 6

Ratchet shifted away from the glow of the monitors to regard his fellow Autobots, "It doesn't make any sense… I've only ever encountered these readings from one other bot… ever… and it wouldn't make sense for me to pick up these sort of readings from a rookie like Smokescreen…"

"What sort of readings?" Bumblebee's electronic chirrups and clicks were decidedly mournful.

"Hang on… what other bot?" Bulkhead demanded.

Ratchet couldn't hold in his exvent. "I've scanned these caliber of readings before… from Optimus…."

"What?"

When Ratchet replied, he spoke with great care and deliberation. "Optimus…is a Prime…"

Wheeljack chuckled. "Yeah, we figured that one out a bit before this, Doc."

"No, no… that's not what I mean… as a Prime, Optimus is capable of communicating with all of the other Primes that came before him."

A stunned silence blossomed among them.

"Really? Like often…?" Bulkhead finally dared the question that plagued the other's processors.

"No… rarely does he consult them directly, apparently it is a very draining and taxing experience. But there are times when one of his predecessor Primes will initiate contact to communicate a message to him in the form of a vision."

"Where are you going with this, Ratch?"

"Arcee, if my readings are correct… it looks like Smokescreen has just received such a vision from a previous Prime."

"But that's impossible, isn't it?" Bulkhead blurted. "Smokescreen isn't a Prime… he can't communicate that way."

"I agree with you, Bulk. None but a Prime can endure a vision from another Prime, and despite the fact that Optimus can, even he is drained from such communications."

"Will Smokescreen be okay?" The only answer Ratchet could give to Bumblebee's tepid whistle, was another exvent. Instead, Ratchet turned back to the monitors, this time digits summoning up Optimus' signal, tracking the Prime's position and spinning a ground bridge mere yards away from their leader. "We need Optimus… only he can verify these readings, and only he can give us an idea of how to help Smokescreen recover."

"On it." Wheeljack didn't hesitate, and without pausing for confirmation, turned and plunged into the swirling vortex of light to bring the Prime back.

"Scrap, Jackie! Wait!" Bulkhead lumbered after his fellow Wrecker, but managed to skid to halt mere ped-steps into the groundbridge. Suspended in the cocoon of evanescence, he at least paused to ask. "… I'll bring him back?"

"Both of them." Arcee answered for Ratchet, tipping her delicate helm in Bumblebee's direction. "Better go with them for good measure, Bee. Optimus is supposed to be talking with Megatron right now… and the last thing we need is for Wheeljack to turn their conversation into… aggressive negotiations."

Chirruping in agreement, Bumblebee followed at Bulkhead's heels, both disappearing in the pastel ether of the tunnel. In their sudden absence, Arcee's optics flitted over to where Smokescreen rested in the folds of unconsciousness. "Ratchet… Optimus will know what to do…" Too bad for her, Arcee's statement resounded with the same authority of a half-hearted question that she didn't entirely intend to voice aloud.

"It'll be okay, Arcee… Optimus will have the answers…"

Hardly daring, Arcee squeezed her optics shut, blocking out the image of Smokescreen so helpless. "… and if he doesn't?" The impossibility of their situation pulled at her, twisting, clawing, cleaving at her logic centres as a cacophony of images assailed her processor: Megatron speaking of a cease-fire… Megatron wanting peace…of Knock Out…Knock Out wanting—what?—the feel of his digit's ghosting against her facial plates…of Smokescreen's knees buckling, pitching toward the floor of their base, the invisible blow from a vision of a Prime…?

The comforting weight of Ratchet's hand upon her shoulder drew her from the snares of her musings. "Primus will protect us… and so will Optimus." He told her, voice low and steady, his faith in their creator and their leader alike unwavering.

In that moment caught in the crosshairs of her uncertainty, Arcee envied him and his faith.

When a ground bridge split open the night air mere ped falls away from where Optimus and Megatron lingered, both mighty mechs were caught unawares.

It startled Megatron enough for the Decepticon Warlord to fall back upon spoken word: "Yours or mine?" He asked quietly, his tone and frame tensing alike.

"I did not ask for one," Optimus addressed Megatron's unasked question that lurked beneath his words. They did not have long to wonder when Bulkhead, Wheeljack and Bumblebee pooled forth from the vortex of light. As their peds stepped onto the arid desert ground, Optimus lifted a hand, extended toward his approaching Autobots, calling for them to slow. Megatron, He reached for him through their bond, fall back. I would not wish for my warriors to make any rash or sudden judgements.

I am not leaving. No denying the surly temper that pulsed within his reply, Megatron however shifted back several steps so that Optimus stood mostly between himself and the approaching Autobots. Warily, the Wreckers and Bumblebee watched Megatron.

"You're needed back at base, Chief." Wheeljack stepped forward, tone just one step shy of insolence to Megatron's audio receptors.

You allow your warriors to treat you with such disdain? Megatron narrowed his optics in disapproval. You are their superior…they owe you more respect.

Sensing the building storm of anger within Megatron, Optimus turned his back to his warriors, giving his focus to the silver mech. Peace, he poured authority into his soothing internal timber, they would not come if it was not a matter of great urgency. Optimus had not forgotten how protective Megatronus had once been of Orion Pax; clearly with their renewed bond, Megatron would be just as protective of Optimus.

"Chief, today would be nice." Wheeljack's biting tone interrupted the two great mechs once more.

Optimus did not intend to give Megatron the opportunity to object, not when the Decepticon lord's temper was rising so swiftly; it was just one of the many facets of Megatron's personality that concerned the Prime, for it was just one of the many, many things that threatened their still so fragile and still fresh alliance. The red and blue mech nodded curtly, indicating for the Autobots to return through the ground bridge.

Before he turned to follow his Autobot's example, Optimus regarded Megatron one last time. "Give us time, Megatron. This adjustment will not come easily for all bots…"

Demonstrating a level of calm and understanding that surprised the red and blue mech, Megatron merely tipped his helm forward in a shallow nod of agreement. "Time…" He agreed. Though despite his acceptance, Optimus could not miss the growl of impatience that coloured Megatron's one-word answer; an all too unpleasant reminder of the mech that Megatron had always been… and still was.

The unease and worry he sensed from his Autobots pulled at his processor the moment he stepped back into the base, and the swirling vortex of the ground-bridge disappeared into insubstantial mist behind him. Instantly Ratchet was beside him, Arcee flanking, their rushed explanations beset him as Ratchet immediately guided him to the med bay.

"—Smokescreen, I fear is in dire need—"

"—Optimus, he just shut down, just collapsed…"

"—I've stabilized him the best that I could—"

"—Never seen anything like this—"

The chorus of their voices dogged his heavy tread as he approached Smokescreen's prone form. It was as Optimus stood before the youngest Autobot that he felt the light, though insistent touch at his elbow and his optics shifted to meet those of the Autobot medic.

"Prime…" Ratchet's timber was hushed with urgency. "His processor readings… they display the same patterns… the same characteristics of…" Where mere moments ago the medic was a fountain of information, now hesitancy locked his vocal processor.

"Ratchet," Optimus spoke at last, his regal timber steady and certain. "… You must tell me all you know."

Grimly, Ratchet tipped his helm in agreement. "Optimus… those readings match your own, after you've had contact from the ancients."

A chasm of silence stretched between them as Optimus processed the implication of what Ratchet was suggesting. Behind him, the presence of all of his gathered Autobots weighed upon him. He knew they were looking to him, depending on him to have the answers, to right the wrongs of their situation and bring Smokescreen back from whatever this was. Yet, his own processor, his very spark, was already taxed from his own demanding encounter from the draconic Predacon Prime.

Doubt began to edge forward: was he too weary to do what needed to be done? Optimus' indefatigable blue optics lifted to alight upon Smokescreen's limp countenance and, in his great spark, the Prime knew that despite his own fatigue, he would find the strength to bring Smokescreen's processor out of this intact simply because he knew he must.

"Optimus?" Arcee's voice sounded tentative, reluctant to break into the red and blue mech's thoughts. She had seen such a look upon Optimus' face before and never had it boded well. "Optimus… how bad is it?"

In reply, Optimus bowed his head and uttered a phrase that Arcee had not heard him use in generations. "… May Primus protect his children… where Smokescreen journeys now, few may follow without consequence…"

Gathering himself, Optimus moved to stand before Smokescreen, reaching out to place his palm atop the panel that protected Smokescreen's spark. Shuttering his optics, he turned his consciousness inward, descending into the depths of the Matrix of Leadership. Surrounding his awareness with strength and light from the ancient Primes, Optimus then focused outward upon Smokescreen's weakened spark.

Forging a tentative bond, held in place only by Prime's willpower, he reached out into the nether where he knew that Smokescreen's processor had been forced from the overload of the vision. Through the grey shadows, down into the void of stasis Optimus moved, searching for the youngest Autobot's consciousness. The further he spun out the connection, the further his own awareness was forced away from his frame, pushing the limits of the fragile mind/body split.

Yet, Optimus did not hesitate to continue to spin the link out further and further, thinner and thinner, as he continued to search.


End file.
